Some Wounds Are Welcome
by dfriendly
Summary: Gwen and Arthur share an attraction, general UST, and a few dirty thoughts in two different instances when they tend to each others’ injuries. Pre-relationship; three-parter/two-parter-with-epilogue
1. Ch 1: In Which Arthur Needs Stitches

**Title: **Some Wounds Are Welcome When They Receive the Proper Care

**Chapter: **1[/3]** "**In Which Arthur Needs Stitches"

**Show: **_Merlin _

**Characters/Pairings: **Gwen/Arthur, Merlin

**Rating: **T for some of sexuality and very slight gore

**Word Count:** 2661

**Spoilers:** For 1x10 & 1x13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Merlin_ or its characters. I once had a plan to hog-tie Bradley and steal him for myself but was foiled by Colin, as it seems that art imitates life. (No, that last bit was a lie.)

**Summary:** Gwen and Arthur share an attraction, general UST and a few dirty thoughts in two different instances when they tend to each others' injuries. Pre-relationship; three-parter

**A/N:** So for 'research' I watched some How-To videos on doing sutures…. And they were GROSS. So, yes, being a surgeon is not my calling and if Bradley/Arthur ever needed my help stitching up a wound I would not be able to help his gorgeous self. But I digress. This is, by no means a proper way to do sutures, whether with modern day technology or in ancient times. A) I think Arthur should perhaps be lying down (but I'd already envisioned the scene so oh, well). B) There'd probably be a bit more blood than I describe (although I suppose that is the general rule with _Merlin_). C) I have no clue how they would go about doing stitches in Arthurian times, since contemporary sutures are nothing like straight forward sewing (not to mention that I probably don't even sew properly, the few times I've sewn a hole in a sweater, etc).

I feel the bit of a tease with the first 9 words, as I just realized. XD I don't remember doing that on purpose…

*Also posted on livejournal under the same user name.*

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Arthur clumsily unbuckled his belt with his left hand, his right preoccupied with holding the rag to a wound on his left side.

"Where's Gaius?"

Merlin set Arthur's crossbow down on the table as he entered the prince's bedroom, right on his master's heels. "Uh…" he hesitated. "Your father lent him to Lady Bendolyn. She went in to childbirth and the midwife is ill."

Arthur scoffed. "Great, now who's going to sew me up? I can't bloody well do it myself, the angle it's at."

"Well, I –"

Arthur put up his finger. "You can forget it."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but was honestly glad to avoid the inevitable complaints he'd receive. Then he had an idea.

"I can get Gwen!" Merlin replied brightly, proud of his own suggestion. "She _is_ the best seamstress in Camelot."

"This is my _skin_, Merlin. Not a ripped tunic," Arthur barked.

Merlin stood silent until Arthur gave in – more easily than he might have expected.

"Well, go on. Fetch Guinevere."

Merlin nodded vigorously and ran off to find his friend.

Arthur shrugged off his vest and then his shirt, wincing a little as the cut across the bottom of his ribcage stretched from the movement. The wound was not very deep and only two inches long. But he knew that even small wounds could turn fatal if not tended to.

He pulled back the cloth he was still pressing against the wound to check on it. It seemed to have stopped bleeding, for the most part anyway. That was good. Now he just needed to clean the wound and have it stitched up. To start, he went to one of his cupboards, taking out a jar of herbal cream that Gaius once gave him for such occasions.

Then he heard the door creak behind him and turned to see Merlin return with Gwen in tow.

Arthur noticed how Gwen blushed as she bowed her head in greeting. He could only assume that she had not expected him to be half-naked. And he couldn't help but like that his body affected her like that.

"Merlin said you needed me to stitch a wound for you, sire," she said quietly.

Arthur closed the cupboard door. "Yes, Guinevere. I can't reach it myself, Gaius is preoccupied, and I wouldn't trust Merlin to not sew his own fingers together. I also hope you have a better stomach for blood than him."

Merlin rolled his eyes, making Gwen smile at how they always acted together. She knew now that Arthur's treatment of Merlin was more like that between brothers than either would care to admit.

"I'll be fine, sire," she answered.

"Good," he nodded. "So… how do you think would be best to do this? Should I stand? Lie on the bed?" He waved around with his left hand, still holding the jar of cream.

Gwen contemplated the question and looked about the room, her face turning a faint pink as she glanced over at the bed. "Perhaps… if you sit on the table and I work from the chair?"

He nodded again and hopped up onto the head of table. "Is this alright?" he asked, gesturing at his usual chair to the left of him.

"Yes, sire."

Gwen approached Arthur's left side. Taking cue, Arthur lifted the rag away once more for her to see it. Unlike many girls, as he'd guess, she was not put off by the blood and gaping flesh. Instead she bent her head to examine.

"It does not look bad, sire. But I will need to clean it first." Gwen looked up to where Merlin was hovering about. "Merlin, could you bring me a basin of water and some clean cloths?"

Merlin nodded and muttered an affirmative before rushing back out again.

Gwen sat in his chair, now eye-level with his wound and set down a small wooden box that she had brought with her.

"Once I'm finished, sire, you should have Gaius tend to you. He'll probably want to treat the wound with some medicine."

Arthur held out the jar he was still holding. "That's what this is for. Knowing what kind of trouble I get into, he thought I should have my own." He handed her the jar of cream, their fingers brushing as he did so.

Gwen set down the jar next to the small box, which she subsequently opened, revealing a sewing kit. "Well, he should probably inspect my work, regardless, sire."

"Guinevere, I'm sure you work is lovely." Gwen opened her mouth respond, but Arthur interrupted her, "However I will still go to Gaius, once he's available, if you insist."

At this point, Merlin rushed in, cloths tucked under his arm and the water sloshing slightly from its basin in his haste.

"Where should I put this?" he asked once he reached Gwen.

She took the cloths from under his arm and set them in front of her on the table. "Could you bring over that stool, please?" she asked, pointing the one in the corner. "And then you can set it next to me."

Merlin quickly brought over the stool and set it beside Gwen, then placing the water basin on top of it.

"Thank you, Merlin," she replied, smiling appreciatively at him. She turned her gaze to Arthur, her smile quickly fading.

Arthur wished she wouldn't do that. She rarely smiled freely in his presence, and the only time it ever been directed at him was after she had first discovered his recovery. But nearly all the time she acted guarded, even more so since that night she had nursed him. Much of the time he found her nervousness around him endearing. Except it left him wishing that she would one day be comfortable around him… uninhibited, even.

Arthur noted the primness of her body, poised at the edge of the chair as she thread the needle that she had selected from her box. For just a servant, she had a noble manner around her that could rival other ladies far above her station. And she often had an air about her, only noticeable when she did not realize that others were observing her, of being in control and assured of herself. She did not panic over his wound – albeit minor – but instead conducted herself calmly and determinedly.

Gwen set the prepared needle and thread down on the top of her kit, now turning to the water basin. She dipped one of the cloths into the basin, then wringing it out. Arthur was reminded of how she had once patted his forehead and chest to combat his fever, done with a tender care that he had never experienced before. But this time, with both Merlin and his conscious self as witnesses, she cleaned his wound almost the same as any other person would – 'almost' because it was still Gwen, who was constitutionally nurturing.

Once Gwen was done with the actual preparations, she raised her eyes to Arthur to signal that she would begin. He moved his left arm back to rest behind him in response, giving her access to the cut on his side.

As Gwen first stuck the needle through the sliced layer of skin, Arthur noticed Merlin's face as he hovered behind her. His upper lip was curled and his face a little pale.

"Merlin, just leave," Arthur sighed. "You make me nervous just looking at you."

"Uh…" Merlin started.

"Its fine, Merlin," Gwen said, sensing his hesitation. "I won't need you anymore; I have everything I require."

Merlin nodded. "I'll go check on Gaius," he said and left the room.

Arthur was glad for Merlin to be gone, now alone with just her and a little freer to admire her as she worked.

First Arthur chose to study Gwen's face, her eyes not entirely visible under her lashes from his high angle. She either had complete focus on her task or refused to look at him; Arthur guessed the latter, as he wondered if she felt his gaze on her.

Sensing her discomfort, he then watched her hands as she operated. They were graceful, he decided, but not overly delicate. Her hands had known work and were strong from it. Good hands for wielding a sword. He observed the way she turned her wrist with each stitch, both nimble and in control, imagining a sweeping sword in her palm instead.

But neither did Gwen seem to like having her work scrutinized, at least as far as she knew. So he tore his eyes from her working fingers to straighten his head and close his eyes.

This would do just as well, he concluded as the sensation of her hand was felt more clearly against his skin.

He focused on her left hand, which was resting on his side to hold the skin in place. Her hand moved with his ribcage as he took in each breath. Arthur wondered if the feel of his expanding chest made her more aware that she was touching him, unable to ignore that knowledge as each oscillation of his ribcage would remind her. He wanted her to be conscious that she was touching him; he even hoped that she secretly _enjoyed_ touching him. Because the thrill of feeling her hand on him would be so much sweeter with the knowledge that she shared his thrill in touching him.

Arthur slowly exhaled, concentrating harder to mentally trace out from the heel of her palm to her each of her fingertips.

Gwen's hands were not the smooth ones of a lady. Arthur remembered Morgana once speaking of Gwen having the worn hands of a servant. But he strangely did not mind. Instead he wondered what those hands would feel like running over his chest, shoulders, and back.

He imagined them dragging slowly over him from his abdomen to his shoulders, gripping him firmly… her fingers soon curling in ecstasy, her nails digging into him, breaking his skin. But he didn't care about what marks she might leave, not now –

Somewhere in the distance he heard Gwen offer an apology, making him realize that he had inhaled a bit more sharply than normal and caused her to think she had stuck him.

"It's fine," he muttered.

The spell of his daydream now broken and afraid to try and return to it – at least while still in her presence – Arthur turned his attention back to her.

Gwen, who was perhaps a little anxious under his stare, finally spoke.

"Might I ask how your mail was pierced? Was it previously damaged, sire?"

He paused, a little surprised at her sudden willingness to converse with him (even if it was because she hypothesized polite conversation to be less awkward than silence).

"I wasn't wearing mail, Guinevere."

Gwen's eyes flickered up to him, her eyebrows hitched up in confusion.

"It was… an impromptu sparring. We were out hunting and finding ourselves bored with the lack of success."

"Well, without mail, I'd think that you and your knights should have been more careful with your blows."

Arthur chuckled, unable to hold back a boyish grin. "We _may_ have brought a few wine skins with us. Not to mention that of Lavain's many skills, holding his drink well is not one of them."

Gwen's face grew stern. "It would be a shame if the prince survived his encounter with a great beast just to be killed in a drunken hunting accident not long after."

Arthur's lips twitched into a smile. "Is this your way of scolding me, Guinevere?"

"No," she answered quickly. "I didn't intend to reprimand you, sire. I have no right to do so… not that I would ever question you," she shook her head as if to mentally clear her thoughts. "I am merely voicing my concern for your health… as a citizen of Camelot."

Gwen's embarrassment only amused Arthur. "Yes, I remember the last time you voiced your concern for me," he teased, referring to the incident with the beast she had just mentioned. "As a citizen of Camelot, of course."

Arthur noticed how Gwen tilted her chin down a fraction more as if to focus better on her stitching; he knew it was purposely done to further obscure her eyes from him. But that didn't hide the redness in her cheeks.

After a pause, she said quietly, "I thought you didn't remember what I said."

"It's coming back to me," he replied, his voice low.

Gwen said nothing, still embarrassed at the idea that he would know what she said that night. After a minute, she chanced a look up – not at his face – but to the once-wounded shoulder.

Arthur followed her eyes to the scar. The rough outline of the creature's bite mark was still a faint pink, quite apparent to anyone who knew where to look.

The only faint memory he had of that time was of Gwen, which seemed more like a dream than real life. But he thought of that time often, desperate to remember any and all details that Gwen would rather he didn't know.

"I remember you holding my hand," he continued solemnly.

Gwen froze at his words. Her eyes hesitantly rose from his scar to his face, quickly gauging his expression, but then snapped back down to her stitching.

"And I should not have done that," she said stiffly.

Arthur sighed. "I think I like you best when you're doing what you shouldn't be," he replied, thinking of how she had stood up to him about having the women stay to fight in Ealdor and later scolded him for being ungrateful for their food. And of course, when she had offered him more comfort than would be acceptable while he had been wounded. "You can be so bold when you want to be, but you choose to hide it."

"As I should."

"If you were being rash, perhaps. But one thing I know, Guinevere, is that you are never rash. You have conviction… a conviction I have never known – not from any knight or noble or politician."

Gwen's cheeks were turning pink, but her expression stayed stern. "You exaggerate, sire."

"No, you are just too humble."

Gwen said nothing, only tying off his stitches and cutting the end with a small knife from her kit.

Arthur sighed, knowing now that Gwen was back to not speaking to him.

In her perfect silence, she then opened the jar of Gaius' cream and dipped the pads of two fingers into it. She carefully smeared it over his stitches, her touch gentle but thorough.

He merely bowed his head, thinking that this may the closest she would come to caressing him, at least for a long time considering her resistance to him.

Wasting no time, Gwen wiped her fingers into one of the cloths and gathered up her sewing kit. The one mistake in her exit strategy was that she walked around the side of the table which she would pass in front of him, not behind him.

Taking his chance, he caught her by the wrist, pulling her to stand just before him. He then stared at her, not realizing what his intentions had quite been.

"Thank you, Guinevere," he said sincerely. For he did not know what else to say.

He considered her hand, which he still had in his grasp. He vaguely thought of throwing it around his neck and kissing her, but that was out of the question. So he brought it up to his mouth and kissed it.

The moment was quick and unceremonious like was done with proper ladies. But he hoped it conveyed some amount of easy affection that he wished them to have.

Gwen's expression changed from discomfort to confused flattery, like she wore in the forest at Ealdor.

Arthur let go of her hand, allowing her to brisk out of the room.

Once she was gone, he was stricken with the thought that he might just have to thank Lavain.

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A/N: I realized belatedly that Gwen seemed to be stitching for an awful long time considering I said it was only two inches long (and the How To video said to use as few stitches as possible! Haha) But oh, well. *shrug* Whatever liberties I take, I do it for more Arwen time.

The second & third parts of this three-parter, will be up soon I hope. Planning on having it done before July 31.


	2. Ch 2: In Which Gwen Hurts Her Ankle

**Title: **Some Wounds Are Welcome When They Receive the Proper Care

**Chapter: **2[/3]** "**In Which Gwen Hurts Her Ankle"

**Show: **_Merlin _

**Pairing: **Gwen/Arthur

**Rating: **R for some of sexuality

**Word Count:** 1,977

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Merlin_ or its characters. I once had a plan to hog-tie Bradley and steal him for myself but was foiled by Colin, as it seems that art imitates life. (No, that last bit was a lie.)

**Summary:** Gwen and Arthur share an attraction, general UST and a few dirty thoughts in two different instances when they tend to each others' injuries. Pre-relationship; three-parter (or two parts w/ epilogue)

*also posted on livejournal under the same username

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_Ch 2: In Which Gwen Hurts Her Ankle_

Two weeks had passed since Gwen had stitched Prince Arthur up. Since then she had hardly seen him, which she was admittedly glad of. The few times she has been around him, it has always left her embarrassed. She didn't know why she had to feel so uncomfortable in his presence. She fumbled over her words, her face would grow hot, and she felt the need to keep her guard up against him.

Quite frankly, she was afraid of him… or at least afraid of how she felt when she was around him. Those feelings were dangerous. She would only get herself hurt if she was stupid enough to fall for him. But try as she might, it didn't help. Her emotions and attraction were getting in the way of her better judgment.

But it wasn't just Gwen's judgment that was being affected; it was her coordination, as she soon found out.

Gwen was descending the stairs from Lady Morgana's room, arms full with linens for washing, when Arthur rounded the corner. His appearance startled her and – with no help from the way she often froze up around him – she stumbled down a few steps, all but one of the linens tumbling from her arms.

"Gwen!" he shouted and rushed up the stairs to her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, sire," she replied, her facing burning from the embarrassment of her clumsiness as she nervously clutched to the remaining sheet in her grasp.

Arthur held out his hand to her, an offer to help her up. Gwen hesitated, her eyes sweeping up to his smile and raised eyebrows. However she knew that one in her social position could not refuse a prince's assistance when he offered and took his hand.

He pulled her up – Gwen trying to ignore the fact that her hand was in his. But before Gwen was even halfway up, she gasped at the increasing weight on her right ankle. Arthur took notice, quickly lowering her back down.

Arthur crouched beside her. "Seems you've hurt your ankle, Guinevere."

"It's not bad, sire. I think it was just the shock."

"Here," he said. And without warning, he placed one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and picked her up before she could protest. Gwen squeaked and impulsively threw her arms around his neck, not realizing until it was too late how much closer that brought her to him.

She noticed the ease in which Arthur carried her, which brought her attention to how solid he felt against her. She knew him to be strong and muscular, but actually experiencing those qualities, his body supporting and touching hers, was another thing.

Arthur carried her to Morgana's room, the remaining bed sheet in Gwen's hand trailing behind him, and set her down on the first available chair. Unfortunately, Morgana wasn't there, as Gwen had known but still hoped she'd somehow be there.

Arthur knelt before her now, in a strangely subservient way. "May I see you ankle? It could be sprained or broken."

"I'll be fine. But thank you, sire," she replied in a clipped tone.

Arthur sighed, clearly exasperated. "Twice you've tended to me, Guinevere. Let me repay the favor."

"But that is my job, sire."

"Your only responsibility is to Morgana."

"All of Camelot is responsible to you, sire."

"And I am responsible to all of Camelot's well-being, which includes your ankle. So let me help you, Guinevere, or I will have to order you."

Gwen pressed her lips together and tentatively raised her foot.

Arthur smiled, and said in a softer voice, "Thank you." He then carefully proceeded to take off her slipper, holding her calf.

At his touch, Gwen quickly began praying that Morgana would return and save her from being alone with him.

Something had happened the last time it had been just Arthur and herself, ending with him kissing her hand and making her completely flustered.

It had been hard enough at the time to concentrate on her stitches with his bare chest blatantly in front of her, which she subsequently had to touch and pretend as if it had absolutely no effect on her. But then he had been staring at her, teasing her, _complimenting_ her – not to mention bringing up a subject that she had never thought he'd remember and she feared may have started the whole thing.

So what was he doing? Why did he seem to be flirting with her? And now he was dashing in to be her savior and nurse her ankle? She had enough trouble keeping herself from being attracted to him without him acting this way.

And now the teasing Arthur was replaced with a gentle Arthur, a side of him she had never seen and which was even more dangerous. Because this part of him was going to lull her into a false sense of security: the circumstances seemed perfectly innocent, but nothing between them lately ever was.

Gwen couldn't help but recognize the underlying intimacy of the situation. They both knew it wasn't proper for any man besides a physician to touch an unmarried girl's foot, made even more scandalous by the fact that her dress was riding up to mid-calf – also which he was holding.

After instructing her to tell him if he hurt her and where she might feel sore, he tenderly pressed the fingers of the hand that did not hold her leg to the bones in her ankle. In fact, his gentleness surprised her, as she expected him to be a man of only a firm touch, never soft.

"None of the bones seem out of place," he said.

Gwen merely nodded, afraid to speak and give herself away.

After that, he readjusted his hand on her calf to get a better grip, the shift of his hand almost making her gasp. His next movement just as startling, he wrapped his other hand around her foot, grazing his fingers over the sensitive arch of her foot.

"Now you must tell me if this hurts or else I could injure you even more," he said. He then proceeded to cautiously move her foot in a circle and in other directions to test her ankle until satisfied that she still had a full range of motion without pain.

As he continued to inspect her ankle, Gwen drifted her attention to watching his mouth. It was something that she very much hated when she caught herself doing, but repeatedly did it despite herself. She had some strange weakness for it. Perhaps it stemmed from her fear to look him in his eyes – his gorgeous and _dangerous_ eyes – so that she lowered her gaze to his mouth… which is where it would get stuck. In all honesty, his mouth was probably even more dangerous than his eyes, because his mouth made somewhere in the pit of her stomach start to melt and that led to even worse thoughts.

Like how she had decided long ago that his lips would be soft yet strong, capable to both caressing and ravishing a woman. This was certainly not helped when he had pressed his mouth to her hand, brief as it had been, cementing her belief.

So it didn't take much to imagine his mouth on other parts of her body: her pulse point, her shoulder, the valley between her breasts…

Now as she breathlessly watched him inspect her ankle, she thought of him kissing her there, too. But he didn't stop there – _no_. He'd slowly kiss his way up the entire inside length of her leg, sliding her skirt up to expose more and more of her skin to his access. Then she abashedly thought of him taking her hips in his hands and scooting her to the edge of the seat, gripping on to her desperately while he kissed her_ there_.

She'd heard snatches of conversations between kitchen maids about how men would sometimes do that – put their mouth upon a woman's most private of places for her pleasure– and although she'd acted scandalized at the idea of such an act, it secretly intrigued her… And whenever she thought about it happening to her, it was always _Arthur_ with his perfect mouth….

"Guinevere?" he asked, abruptly ripping her from her fantasy.

"Hmmm?" she responded distractedly, shamed that she had let her imagination carry on so far.

"It's not broken, nor do I think it sprained. And there is no swelling, at least as of yet," he announced. "But I should probably fetch Gaius to be safe."

"No," she answered. "I think I will be fine." Gwen just wanted him to leave now before he noticed how flushed her skin was, her heart beating so fast and hard that she swore he'd be able to hear it.

"At least let me wrap it for you," he offered in return.

Gwen mouthed wordlessly, unsure of how to best refuse any continuation of his care. But before she could find such words, the sound of ripping cloth interrupted her. Arthur had already begun tearing a strip from the sheet that had lain forgotten by her feet. At the sight of her astonishment, he smiled, saying, "Don't fret, I'm the prince. I can do with the linens whatever I choose."

He rested her foot on his leg, something Gwen wished he hadn't done due to how intensely she seemed to feel his muscular thigh through the pad of her foot. Then he started to wrap her ankle, the constant brushing of his fingers over her foot and leg like torture. Thanks to his basic knowledge of treating injuries (for in times of combat), he was able to make the binding tight enough to offer support but not so much that she couldn't walk on it before finishing by replacing her slipper.

"You're going to insist on getting up and back to work instead of resting a bit, now aren't you?" he asked, clearly knowing her too well.

"Yes, sire."

"Perhaps if I ordered you…?" he began with a teasing smile. But her look of irritation seemed to ward him off. "Very well, Guinevere," he sighed. "But you really ought to be careful if it starts to hurt."

Arthur got to his feet, standing just before her and holding out his hands for her, similar to how he had done earlier.

Gwen accepted, sliding both her hands into his palms and carefully raising herself up.

Once standing, she realized how very close their bodies were. But Gwen was trapped by the chair and Arthur wouldn't take a step back. He did not let go of her hands either, holding his arms awkwardly as if in indecision of what to do.

From this proximity to him, Gwen could not see his face from her height and finally gave in to looking up at him. Arthur was staring down at her, his expression contemplative. Gwen's eyes fell to his mouth again and flickered back up to his eyes as he leaned down closer to her. Her breaths slowed almost to a halt, unconsciously wetting her lips as she sensed what might be coming next.

"Gwen," a voice called, causing Arthur to jump back and drop her hands. "Do you have any idea why there are sheets all over the –" Morgana stopped short as she rounded the corner to her open door, surprised to find Arthur there.

"Morgana!" Arthur greeted in a strange joviality. "You didn't happen to see Merlin in the halls? I just came to ask Guinevere." Without waiting for an answer he swept out the door, with Morgana's curious gaze following his retreating back.

She then looked back at Gwen and the remains of the sheet on the floor, her eyes questioning. But by some miracle, she never asked for an explanation, making Gwen wonder what rationalization her lady might have come up with.

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**A/N:** So… I had originally thought of doing this where I would switch to Arthur's perspective & he would be having all those naughty thoughts. But then I realized that Arthur was monopolizing the dirtiness & that just wouldn't do, especially since we know that Gwen can't possibly have nothing sinful going through her head (she's only human!) and realized it might be a bit fun if Gwen actually had the dirtier thoughts (at least in these two instances). So there you are.

PS: I've had a recent obsession with Bradley/Arthur's mouth. Could you tell? :D

***I decided to add on an epilogue, so it will be three parts not two, and said epilogue will be posted soon!!! (fingers crossed)


	3. Epilogue: Old Wounds

**Title: **Some Wounds Are Welcome When They Receive the Proper Care

**Chapter: **3[/3] – Epilogue **"**Old Wounds"

**Show: **_Merlin _

**Characters/Pairings: **Gwen/Arthur

**Rating: **NC-17 for sexuality

**Word Count:** 1,786

**Spoilers:** 1x13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Merlin_ or its characters. I once had a plan to hog-tie Bradley and steal him for myself but was foiled by Colin, as it seems that art imitates life. (No, that last bit was a lie.)

**Summary:** Gwen and Arthur share an attraction, general UST and a few dirty thoughts in two different instances when they tend to each others' injuries. Pre-relationship; three-parter (or two parts w/ epilogue)

*Also posted on on my livejournal under the same username*

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_An Epilogue: Old Wounds… (some time in the future)_

It was a happy coincidence that night that both Arthur and Gwen were able to finish their duties early. It allowed them extra energy and zeal that night for more pleasurable activities.

In pursuit of such pleasure, Arthur sat on the edge of the bed with Gwen astride his lap, she in just her shift as she quickly shed him of his shirt and he kicked off his boots.

Satisfied with their progress, Gwen slipped her fingers through the hairs at Arthur's neck to pull him into a kiss. Arthur reached for her waist, tugging her against him as he slid his tongue against hers. Resolving the kiss, she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling it gently, and letting it go to move on to his neck.

She trailed kisses from below his jaw to the hollow of his clavicle, following it along until she reached his old scar from the Questing Beast. She paused there to run her tongue along its jagged edges before lightly sucking on his skin.

Arthur moaned. "You know I think that may be my favorite scar," he said, his voice strained.

Gwen stopped and raised her eyebrow in amusement. "Because it makes you feel dashing?"

"No, because it reminds me of the first night you spent in my bed." Arthur pushed her skirt all the way up to her hips at this.

Gwen scoffed. "The whole time which I sat at the edge, fully clothed."

"No. The way I remember it you were pressed up against me, stroking me and whispering those sweet things in my ear….with not a shred of cloth on you." Still smiling, he kissed her while pulling on the ties at the front of her shift.

Gwen paused and shook her head. "The fever must have affected your mind."

She felt him chuckle against her mouth, making her own lips curl up into a smile. Feeling particularly playful, she brushed her fingers up his sides. Gwen knew him to be ticklish on his ribs, rewarded when his body jerked and his hands flew to grab hers.

Gwen bit her lip as she grinned, her right finger stretching from his grasp to reach for the small scar on his ribcage. "Remember when I sewed you up?" she asked teasingly.

"I remember…" He smiled back and put her hands safely around his neck. "I remember I kept thinking about your hands. About having them all over my chest instead of just the one place."

Gwen unlaced her hands from his neck, sliding them down his torso then around and up his back. "Like this?" she asked innocently before kissing him.

"A lot like that," he growled.

Arthur bent his head and pushed one strap of her shift off her shoulder before placing a kiss there.

"How about not longer after, when you tended to my hurt ankle?"

"When I first tried to kiss you?"

"You do remember," she smiled, pleased he had not forgotten such details.

"I also remember how I could hardly contain myself," he said gruffly as he kissed her neck. "I so badly wanted to run my hands all the way up your leg."

Gwen laughed softly. "I remember wanting you to," she replied.

Arthur pulled back to smile impishly at her. "That so?"

"No, actually," she said, her facing turning sober. But then a smile slunk back even wider. "I had hoped you'd use your mouth, instead."

Now it was Arthur's turn to laugh. "You're just teasing me, Guinevere."

"Well, it's the truth."

"You were too innocent for me to believe that."

"Not that innocent, apparently. You'd be surprised by some of thoughts I had of you. I tried not to, believing I was just setting myself up for disappointment. It took me a long time to accept that it could actually happen, that you weren't just teasing and flirting for your own amusement. But that didn't keep me from having fantasies," she finished with her voice low and seductive.

A sound of contemplation rumbled in Arthur's throat as he kissed up her jaw to whisper huskily in her ear. "And all that time I felt guilty for having such thoughts about you, when you were doing the same."

Then without warning, he stood, turned, and tossed Gwen back on the bed. She shrieked with laughter at her surprise and delight, beaming at him while he got on his knees before her.

"Now it was this ankle, I believe," he said, taking her right leg up.

He first exposed the bottom of her foot, placing a kiss in dip of the arch. Gwen giggled and squirmed at the ticklish sensation. She waited, but he did no more.

"Well, tell me, Guinevere. This is your fantasy. What did I do next?"

Gwen bit the side of her lip in thought. "Then… you kiss the top of my foot – gently, like a lady's hand."

Arthur obeyed, pressing his mouth firmly against her skin.

"And after that?" he asked.

She sighed contently. "The inside of my ankle."

He did that, too, his lips moving against her more this time.

"And you'd make a slow line up to my knee," she continued.

Gwen closed her eyes as she felt him make his way up her calf, not skipping over one inch of her. She let out a content moan, coming close to just stopping him so she could have him now.

Arthur was on his hands and knees now, her ankle over his shoulder.

Instead of asking for her instruction right away, he spent a moment watching Gwen: her eyes shut in ecstasy and a flush spreading up over her breast.

"What now?"

"You'd continue up that line," she said breathlessly. "But now using your tongue and teeth as well."

Arthur tutted. "Naughty Guinevere," he whispered with a smirk before carrying out her instruction.

Gwen mewled as he licked and nipped up the inside of her thigh, disbelieving how delicious his actions felt against her skin. He drew closer and closer, but slowed as he went in order to continue torturing her until she could barely stand it.

"Arthur, please!" she gasped.

"You haven't given me the next step, Guinevere," he murmured against her skin.

Responsively, Gwen arched her back and spread her legs further to him. "Arthur…" she whined, barely able to form his name.

Arthur hovered over center, slowly exhaling hot breath over her.

"Here?" he husked innocently.

"Yes," she begged.

Arthur followed her order, receiving Gwen's moan of approval.

It did not take long before Gwen's hips began moving on their own, pressing against Arthur's mouth to seek her fast approaching release. Arthur's left hand reached out to steady her hip, the fingers on his right helping to drive her over the edge until she cried out in rapture.

Gwen felt him crawl up her body and opened her eyes to see him propped up above her, watching as her body slowly untensed and she still gasped for air. When she caught his eyes, he smiled, fully pleased with himself.

"We should do this fantasy business more often, Guinevere."

Gwen paused, planning out her move before shoving him over onto his back and straddling his thighs.

She grasped his hands and put them over his head. "Speaking of fantasies…" Leaning forward, she placed a drawn-out kiss over his lips and straightened back up. "Now where is it you had wanted my hands?" she whispered.

Arthur eyed her hungrily. "Everywhere," he answered hoarsely.

Gwen unlaced her fingers from his, running her hands down his arms to his shoulders. They continued up his throat until reaching his jaw, her pointers tracing tiny circles in the dips behind his ears. She then moved her thumbs over his lower lip. At this, Arthur caught one between his teeth to suck gently on it until she withdrew it.

Relocating her hands to his pectorals, Gwen stroked them over the bristles on his chest, feeling the heavy rise and fall with each breath. She teased his nipples with the pads of her fingers and then dragged her nails over his abdomen to his pubic bone. With her last movements, Arthur let out a long, low groan before sucking his air back through his teeth.

Gwen pulled at the strings on his pants, Arthur keenly rising up off the bed for her to pull them down to his knees for him to kick the rest of the way off. Seeing his expectancy and reminded of how he'd teased her only minutes ago, she began brushing her fingers over his thighs. Each time her hands moved toward his groin, he would tense eagerly, and then she would move back away before doing it again. But he neither begged nor commanded. He just bit his lip and gripped the sheet in his hands, which remained obediently above his head. And even as he began to shake with need, his eyes stayed locked on her.

Unable to bear torturing him any longer, Gwen finally took his cock in her hands. Arthur gasped in response, his chest heaving at her appeasement. Her hands moved slowly up and down his shaft while he pressed his head back moaning quietly at her touch.

"Guinevere," he panted and sat up.

Gwen stopped, letting herself be guided by him as he desperately pulled her shift over her head. He then took her by the hips, directing her onto him. His mouth went to her breast and his hand between her legs, known ways of accelerating her climax. Gwen moaned at his ministrations and began a leisurely pace, keeping him sated and giving Arthur the time to bring her up to his level of arousal.

Once Gwen felt her pending release, she pushed Arthur back on the bed, gradually increasing her tempo. His hands clenched over her hips as the tremors began coursing her body, her spasms driving him to his own climax, their incoherent shouts mingling together in the night.

Gwen gradually collapsed onto his chest, feeling as Arthur wrapped his arms around her. She felt exhausted, the sound of their combined breathing lulling her.

"It's strange to remember a time when our fantasies were all we had of each other," she whispered drowsily.

Arthur did not say anything right away, trailing his finger down her spine instead. "I suppose it is, my queen."

Gwen lifted her head to see his face. "Was it really so long ago?" she asked. Her right fingertips brushed over the faint wrinkles beginning to appear at the edge of her husband's eyes.

Arthur sighed. "Not so long."

With a tired smile, Gwen lay her head back down, placing a kiss from the side of her mouth on his chest.

"I suppose not."

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**A/N: **Phew! My first multi-parter Arwen & my first Arwen smut! And all done in time before the camelot_love "Anything Goes" challenge is over!

So thoughts on the epilogue? On all three chapters as a whole? Comments = 3! And thank you all for reading!


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